Over it, and even a small tin churchI never went to. My brother, my cousins and IDid what boys do - dozed in the hotSchoolroom, made bows and arrows, dodged the madBoatbuilder, crept like rabbits through the blackUnder-runners with a weak torch,Burnt dry rushes, wrestled or swamDoing nothing important.
The town was usual enough: it had
A creek, a bridge, a beach, a sky
Over it, and even a small tin churchI never went to. My brother, my cousins and IDid what boys do - dozed in the hotSchoolroom, made bows and arrows, dodged the madBoatbuilder, crept like rabbits through the blackUnder-runners with a weak torch,Burnt dry rushes, wrestled or swamDoing nothing important.
James K. Baxter